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My husband and I have been married for around a year and a half; we’ve been together for nearly 5 years, living together for 3.

Even before we were married we talked about kids. Of course, we had other plans first:
– Get married
– Live a happily married life for a while
– Graduate college
– Get our own health insurance (with maternity)
– Make sure the business is going steady
– Have good savings
– Make sure we’re ready for the time and responsibility

I don’t know how we could possibly be better prepared. We had our list checked off, dairy business is never steady, but we were finally doing good.

I have been taking care of kids since I was 15 and finally we were going to try for our own. Bart even knew what he was getting into, since we were now taking care of Taylor several days a week; since she was two months old.

We heard lots of stories about people trying to get pregnant for months or years; so we were trying to stay realistic about the whole process. We were never under any illusions that being pregnant would be easy.

Surprisingly, we were pregnant within two weeks. We went to my OB/GYN afterward and did lots of blood tests and a new pap. Everything turned out great. I have no problems/bad family history. We decided to wait until the first sonogram to tell family and friends. It was wonderful keeping it to ourself for a while. It was a nice little secret between Bart and I.

Our first sonogram was so exciting! It was wonderful and cute and sweet all at once. Overwhelming! The doc said that everything looked great. Nothing to worry about. We took that as a go-ahead and tell family and friends. Thanksgiving day we announced. We called Bart’s family and we gave my family a huge wrapped box with pink and blue helium balloons in it.

That wait between the 8 week sono and the 12 week checkup took FOREVER! On the 12 week mark we started to get some worrying symptoms, I wont go into details. But we went a few days early to the doc for a check up.

The whole time you’re worrying about it, you fear the worst. But you don’t want to believe that anything is wrong. Still holding onto any shred of hope.
They tried to find the heart beat with the doppler, and couldn’t. Still we hope.
They do exams. Still we hope.
They order a sonogram. immediately I saw that something is wrong, it was small and wasn’t moving on the screen. Still we hope.

The doctor came in and told us the bad news. Somewhere between the 8th and 12th week the baby had died. It could have been as early as a few days after the sono. We were having a miscarriage.

That morning we were going through the emotional side of things.
Small things hurt, like remembering when we read that the baby was about the size of a lemon. Feeling pregnant even though the baby had died. Getting things in the mail, little gifts. Hearing that other girls were getting “knocked up” when they didn’t have a stable relationship or money to take care of a baby. Those things stung.

And having to tell everyone, our private tragedy was becoming very very public.

That afternoon we put it on Facebook, getting it right out there. Then in the evening I ended up in the ER because the pain of the whole process was so bad.

Plans are postponed, dreams are put off.

But we will try again when we can. The fear now, is a big Question Mark ?

Will it happen again ?

I guess we’ll just have to wait and see. One day I’ll get my bundle of joy. I’m staying positive. But it’s hard.

Can you believe that one in three pregnancies result in miscarriage?

Well, that’s what the doc says. I guess in some weird way it gives me hope that this was just one of those statistics, and there’s not a bigger problem at hand.